The Chthonic Contrivances
by Thee Curlyque
Summary: Set over a decade after the events of The Mortal Instruments, Jericho Lightwood is a young and upcoming Shadowhunter striving to live up to the expectations thrust upon him by the Nephilim society. Alongside parabatai Gabrielle Hollowfield, Jericho will begin to uncover a conspiracy that threatens to entirely eradicate the order and balance maintained by the Accords.


**Part One: Purification **

"A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark." -Dante, Inferno

1

Dawn

Jericho Lightwood had not been expecting the bad news when it had barged through the old wooden door of his closed-in bedroom. More so, he had not expected said news to come with the entrance of such an irrefutably annoyed face.

He turned his head towards the sound of the intruder, blinking once, twice, and then a third time for good measure, watching as she came to a stand still at the edge of his bed, arms crossed defiantly against her chest. On any other occasion, he would have snapped harshly and jeered at anyone who had the nerve to enter his cave unprecedented. But this wasn't just anyone.

"What's up, Gabs?" he said coolly, casually, his mischievous blue eyes resting to gaze up at her through thick lashes.

The girl huffed and pushed a clump of matted, wet, normally very silky black hair over her shoulder, her jaw tightly set. Jericho thought she looked very much like she'd been caught in the storm outside."You know very well what's up."

"I do not," he retorted blankly.

She released a deep, irritated sigh before falling back on his bed beside him, closing her eyes and rubbing her temple vigorously. "I'm so tired."

"Then sleep."

"I can't just sleep. It's not that simple," she muttered. He couldn't help but stare at her, probably far longer than he should have. Her face, fresh as rain, was very pale in contrast to her dark hair and eyes, the stark difference he'd always secretly admired.

As she opened her eyes and turned to him, he quickly averted his gaze to the world outside his bedside window, watching the rain splutter along the sidewalk like liquid gunfire.

"It's never simple for us, is it?" he asked.

"No," she mumbled. "I suppose it isn't. But today was worse than usual. I mean, I was coming home from a hunt with Ezekiel and we...we found another one. I just don't get it. They keep turning up along the alleyways. It's terrifying. You're trained for this stuff, but then it happens, and..."

Jericho was sitting upright now, his hands resting at his knees as his expression hardened. "No one was hurt, right?"

"No, but-"

"You didn't see any rogues, did you?"

"We saw something, but it darted off somewhere. It moved like a vampire," she said, and thought to herself, Like Simon. "And it went through the sunlight, like the others."

He scowled, his face looking more grim with every passing second. "By the angel. What will it take?"

"I don't know." Gabrielle shook her head defeatedly. "I just hope it all blows over."

"Yeah, well," Jericho said numbly. He reached a hand out for hers, tracing his fingers delicately over the sharp runes along her palm, the ones that so perfectly matched his own and that marked them as parabatai. "Me too."

Later that evening, Gabrielle sat at the long dining room table, nearly empty except for the few scattered Shadowhunters. She glanced to her left and contained a laugh when she saw Ezekiel shoveling pork into his mouth, Isaiah staring on in muted disgust. At the head of the table sat Clary, going on in a hushed, vibrant debate with her golden-haired husband, the cerebral wonderland they all called Jace. To her right, Jericho was sat in a silvery chair, absentmindedly rolling around the peas on his plate with his fork.

She noted how much they looked alike, how Jericho had inherited Jace's sunny curls, long lashes, and thin, chiseled nose- he was gorgeous, just like Jace, and there was no denying that.

She went and carried on with her observations, finally seeing Cil and David, their chairs pressed up closely together as they whispered sweet nothings back and forth.

Cil had turned out very much like Jace as well, her curly golden-copper hair matching his and Jericho's as if they were part of a set. Freckles sprayed across her nose like little stars, her eyelashes curling against her skin, her body small and compact like her mother's. Features that Gabrielle couldn't help but envy them for. She'd never really liked her own. Her small, pointy nose, rounder face, dark hair that reminded her of dried blood, her too tall height...

Seeing the few of them left here at the Institute send a resounding shiver of melancholy through her skin, like ice. It'd been six months since they'd lost Aaron to a mob of rogue Daylighters, a tragedy that had left an unspoken anger in the halls of their home. Gabrielle knew more than anyone that it was nearly impossible for a vampire to so simply acquire the blood of a Nephilim, but that wasn't to say it couldn't be done. Clearly, it had been.

She remembered the first vampire she'd ever met- Simon Lewis, a man she often thought of as a brotherly figure. Her parents weren't around very often, situated in Conneticut to run the Institute down there. And she didn't have any siblings, so it would have been pretty lonely if not for the other Shadowhunters in training. And Simon, of course. Because he was so close to her aunt, Clary, he often visited to check up on them and help out when needed.

At first it had been odd, knowing that Simon was so old but looked so very, very young, and that he and Clary had once been teenagers together, when she was young as he.

Gabrielle remembered being a child and feeling small next to Simon. But slowly she had grown to be the same biological age as him, and even surpassed that age. Now she was eighteen, her face older and full- a young adult. Yet he would remain the same, trapped in a sixteen year old body on the peak of adulthood as everyone around him -everyone he loved- grew old and died. As she grew old and died. It terrified her to think that far ahead, so she was grateful when she was pulled out of her thoughts by the prim, familiar voice of Isaiah.

"-and I was thinking, you know, it's a good idea."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Isaiah's face fell, her green eyes dimming. "Were you even listening?"

"No, I-" Gabrielle hesitated, her voice cracking as she continued, "I zoned out."

"Damn it, Gabs. Well, I was saying," the younger started, in a hushed tone. "I have this idea. I ran it by David, and he thought it was plausible, if not a little dangerous. I was thinking- you know how Daylighters are created, right?"

Gabrielle nodded, and Isaiah continued.

"Since vampires need the blood of a Nephilim in order to walk in the daylight, what if there was a way we could cancel that out? If we could somehow get them to drink demon blood...maybe it would override the blood of the Nephilim. We could-"

"That is the most ridiculous idea you've ever come up with." Gabrielle cut her off, looking abrasive. "What happens if the demon blood doesn't cancel it out? What if it makes them stronger and immune to the sunlight?"

Isaiah pressed, "I already thought of that. Which is why it's a dangerous idea. But we're Shadowhunters, taking a goddamn walk down the street is dangerous for us!"

Gabrielle ignored that statement, interrogating the reckless one further. "And how would you even get the vampire to drink the demon blood? Or get the demon blood in the first place?"

Isaiah opened her mouth to respond, her eyebrows flying up passed her bangs, but she didn't get the chance.

Jericho cut in, with his low voice, "I heard something about demon blood." He'd scooted his chair a lot closer to theirs, and had apparently heard their whispered argument.

Gabrielle looked at him, and her breath hitched a little when she realized how close they were. He was leaning his elbow on the table, facing them, his face just a few inches away from hers. His eyes scanned hers before moving to Isaiah's, and he finally said, "Well? What's going on?"

"Isaiah has this dumb idea, it's nothing."

"It isn't nothing!" the girl protested. "It's very plausible. Even David is on board-"

Jericho arched an eyebrow. "So spill it."

Gabrielle listened on in an annoyed silence as Isaiah animatedly explained her plan in full. When she finished, Jericho was quiet.

"Well?" Isaiah tried.

"I think," Jericho began. "That is a very bad idea that will get us all killed."

The girl's face fell, and Gabrielle felt a sense of relief. Typically, Jericho took the lead when it came to hunting. Not only was he the oldest, but he was a master strategist and a great leader, if not a little cocky. If he thought a plan was no good, then they usually didn't carry it out.

But he wasn't finished.

"However," he continued, and drawled the syllables out slowly. "I'm willing to give it a shot."

Gabrielle blanched. "What?"

He shrugged and looked from her to Isaiah, who was now beaming. "There's just one condition- Saia can't go, she's too young."

Isaiah scowled. "I'm sixteen. Three years younger than you, Jer. I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"Eighteen is the cutoff age. Any age below that is considered a child, and quite frankly, I don't want to be responsible for the death of another minor." His words hit both girls like a slap to the face, and immediately Gabrielle thought, He's talking about Aaron.

Upon seeing their mortified expressions, he added in a very bitter tone, "I'm not making that mistake again." And when he ended the sentence, it was clear that the discussion was over.

When Isaiah had recovered from the slight shock of his words, she asked, "Are we going to tell Clary and Jace, or...?"

Jericho shook his head, a definite no. "My parents wouldn't be so keen on the idea." His eyes flitted over to Gabrielle, who stared back at him wonderingly.

"Gabs," She searched his eyes for any emotion; she found nothing but blankness. "We'll go tonight. Be ready, we're going to have to Mark ourselves and get our gear. You said David was on board, right?" he glanced to Isaiah, who nodded briskly.

"Good, then it's a go."

With that, he rose from his chair, excusing himself and stalking off into the long hallways of the Institute before Gabrielle could get a word in.

"He's...different, lately. Takes every mission a little too seriously...Ever since..." Isaiah let the sentence hang in the air, not wanting to say what they were both thinking.

"Yeah," Gabrielle murmured quietly. "I noticed that too."


End file.
